By Airship to Ophir

By Fenton Ash

Dated 1928. „By Airship to Ophir”, written by Fenton Ash, tells the story of an airship and two aircraft meander round central Africa picking up an assortment of natives in a search for the fabled land of Ophir, which is eventually reached and found to be inhabited by a race of people of Arab/Hebrew mien. This fantasy adventure would suit anyone interested in old fantasy novels for children and young people. Fenton Ash is the first and main pseudonym of UK civil engineer and author Francis Henry Atkins (1847-1927) who was a writer of „pulp fiction”, in particular science fiction aimed at younger readers. He wrote under the pseudonyms Frank Aubrey and Fenton Ash.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ktoczyta.pl
• Release date: Aug 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9788381621069

Book preview

Author.

I. THE MESSAGE

HOW the lions are roaring round us to-night, Dan! There must be more of them than usual about.

Yes, sir; ye see it be a extra dark, bad night, an’ that makes ‘em bolder. It sounds to me as if theer be a party on. Our reg’lar lion friends, what comes other nights, ‘as sent out invertation cards, belike, to a lions’ supper party.

H’m! Well, we don’t want them to make their suppers off us–or off the professor’s oxen, either. Better tell the boys to see to the fires.

Ay, ay, sir! I’ll make ‘em stir their selves. Ginger! What a clatter!

It was something more than a clatter that was going on just then around the lonely camp in the African wilderness. There had come an outburst of booming, reverberating roars which fairly seemed to shake the earth.

Of the two who had been speaking, the first one was a good-looking, muscular young fellow, Roland Woodham by name, a ward of Professor Kelmar, the leader of the party. The other was an old hunter, a grizzled, weather-beaten veteran of the forest and plain, called Dan Beach.

They were seated near the middle of a circle of considerable extent formed by a ring of fires, which again were placed inside a skilfully-constructed fence of thornbush. Within the enclosure thus guarded were tents, wagons, and other items of a traveller’s outfit. In and out amongst these could be seen a promiscuous assortment of native boys, hunters, headmen, and carriers, some standing or sitting about in groups, chattering and laughing, some sprawling on the ground as though courting sleep.

Near at hand were oxen, many of them tugging desperately at the stakes to which they were tethered, and adding to the din by bellowing with fright; while others of the poor creatures, too frightened to move or utter a sound, simply stood still and trembled in a cold sweat.

The largest tent of all had a porch or awning in front of it, where, seated beside a table with a lamp, was a tall, bearded man with a tanned complexion and strong, wiry-looking figure, dressed in a hunter’s white costume and helmet. This was Professor Kelmar, an experienced explorer and naturalist. He was reading a book, and was studying it so deeply as to appear utterly indifferent to the uproar around him.

As to the locality of the encampment, the professor himself would have been puzzled to say positively, more than that he was not very far from the boundary line of the British-African state of Uganda. He was conducting an exploration into unknown territory, in the somewhat vague hope of discovering what had become of a friend of his, another explorer–one of world-wide repute–named Dr. Cambray.

Dr. Brinton Cambray had led a large and well-equipped party some years before into the unexplored interior of Africa, and then, so far as the civilised world was concerned, seemed to have completely disappeared.

What had become of him none could say. Rumours had floated down to the coast, but they were so many and so various, so hopelessly contradictory one of another–and some, at least, were of so wild and extraordinary a character–that nothing could be made out of them.

So at last the professor had determined to go himself in search of his friend, taking with him only a small party, consisting of his ward, Roland Woodham, his faithful henchman, Beach–who had accompanied him in more than one previous trip of the kind–and a few natives on whose fidelity he knew he could implicitly rely.

Roland and Beach had been seated beside the fire which had cooked their evening meal, and were now engaged in cleaning their rifles by the light of the flames.

I shouldn’t care to be a lonely traveller out on the plain on a night like this, said Roland with a slight shudder, as there came a short interval of comparative silence. I wonder if there’s any belated native abroad to-night?

No fear, sir; or if there be, he’s passing the night up a tree, Beach declared. Nobody in his senses goes about alone in the dark here. They keeps to their villages–an’ they beant too safe even theer; or else, if so be there’s a party of ‘em, they camps fur the night, and makes up plenty o’ fires same as we be doin’.

The hunter had laid his rifle carefully aside and risen to his feet, and having delivered himself of this last observation, was turning to cross over to the natives’ quarters, when he suddenly stopped and stared about him.

Did ye hear that, sir? he exclaimed.

Hear what, Dan?

Why–I doan’t rightly know, Mr. Roland, Beach answered hesitatingly. But I thought, somehow, as I ‘eard voices overhead like.

This amused Roland, who laughed; and as though the lions thought he was laughing at them, his reply was drowned in a fresh outburst of roars from outside the camp.

It was in the midst of this deep-toned chorus that something came hurtling through the air–something which fell just between Dan and the young fellow still seated beside the fire–something which flashed white as it came into the light of the lamp in the tent on the one side and the firelight on the other.

Great Scott! cried Dan. What be that?

He had again started off to speak to the native boys, and he once more turned back, in order to see what it was that had fallen. But Roland, leaning over and crawling a foot or two, reached it first.

In an instant he had jumped to his feet, and was holding the something up in his hand, and examining it by the aid of the flickering firelight.

Jupiter! Why–it’s a letter! he gasped.

A what, sir? asked Dan, amazed.

A letter–and it’s addressed to the professor!

Beach stared helplessly up into the sky. Nothing to be seen there save inky blackness. Then he stared again at Roland.

A letter! he muttered to himself. Great Scott! He says it’s a letter!

The roars had died down into hoarse, muttering growls and grunts; and it so happened that just then Professor Kelmar looked up from the book he was reading, and saw his ward coming towards him with something white in his hand.

What have you there? he asked.

A letter, sir–just arrived, was the surprising answer.

A letter? What do you mean, Roland? The professor frowned. He did not like silly, boyish jokes such as this seemed to be.

It’s true, sir, Roland declared. Look at it!

He held out a pebble some few inches in length, and weighing perhaps four or five ounces. To it a letter was securely tied by a piece of native fibre in place of string.

Professor Kelmar took it and looked at it curiously. Then he slipped the fastening off, and turned the missive over and over. It was a thick envelope, carefully sealed with wax, and bearing his name.

So astonished did he feel that he continued to stare at the envelope for what seemed quite a long time. Finally he broke the seal, opened it, and took out and read the enclosure.

The contents seemed only to add to his mystification.

Roland! he cried. How did this come here?

That’s more than I can say, Mr. Kelmar, the youngster returned. I’m trying to think the puzzle out. It seemed to drop from the clouds, just now.

Do you mean that some messenger has arrived with it on a night like this?

Roland shook his head.

No, sir; no messenger has come into camp. It dropped almost at my feet.

Do you mean, then, that someone flung it from the outside over the hedge and the fires?

That’s what I’m trying to think out, sir. It fell just when that last little tune-up of our four-footed camp-followers was at its loudest. But I can scarcely think it was one of them who–

Don’t talk rubbish! interrupted the professor angrily.

Indeed, sir, I don’t mean it that way. But I can hardly think that any person could be outside and threw it in. So where on earth it came from I can’t imagine.

The professor meantime was reading the epistle itself, and as he read the expression of his face altered and became excited and eager.

Extraordinary! he exclaimed. However it came, it’s a wonderful letter–short as it is, it’s a marvellous letter, Roland! What it says is as astonishing as the way it came. It tells me most welcome news–that Dr. Cambray is alive, and he wants me–but, Roland we must find that messenger! He must be a brave fellow and a faithful one–to venture here on such a night. If he is still outside we must have him in. Dan, go and find him, and bring him here to us! We can’t leave him out there!

Dan had drawn near, and had listened to the talk between his leader and Roland.

Of course not–of course not, said the hunter, in a dazed sort of way. Only, sir, if I bring him in I’ll have t’ bring in the hull menagerie as is outside, I’m thinking. If he were ever theer, he’s bin eat up long ago.

What do you mean by that?

I means as there weren’t no messenger. Couldn’t a bin. Nobody could a come through them roaring ‘ungry creetures wi’out bein’ eat up! Ye knows that yesself, sir. No; he can’t be outside the hedge–even if he could have thrown that theer stone as fur–which, beggin’ yer pardin, sir, I takes the liberty to misdoubt. ‘Sides, it didn’t come from the outside like.

That’s just it, Roland put in. I agree with Dan. I doubt if anyone could have thrown the stone from outside–especially the way this was thrown.

How else could it have come, then? Professor Kelmar demanded.

Roland was silent. It was a question he could not answer. But Beach had quite made up his mind.

It’s witchcraft, sir; that’s what it be, he said.

The professor turned away impatiently, and, bidding the two attend him, went off to the native side. There he ordered the boys to get torches and follow, and, in spite of the danger attending his proceedings, he made the circuit of the whole camp, close to the hedge, calling loudly to anyone who might be waiting on the other side, and bidding him reveal his whereabouts.

Bit it was all in vain. There was an ominous absence of anything like a human reply to their calls. Only the lions roared again, in defiant answer to what they thought was a sort of challenge meant for them.

He must have rushed up to the hedge, thrown the letter over and rushed away again, the professor finally decided.

If he did he’s lion’s meat by this time–that’s sartin, growled Dan to himself. But theer warn’t no one theer. It be witchcraft!

The professor returned thoughtfully to his tent, where, spreading the paper out on his table, he read it out aloud for the benefit of his two white companions. And this is all there was to read.

Meet me at the Lion Rock three days from now, S. by E. ½ S.–Brinton Cambray.

The Lion Rock! repeated the professor. Meet me at the Lion Rock! What an extraordinary message! And–more extraordinary still–he evidently knows exactly where we are, though we have heard no rumour of his being in the neighbourhood.

And he says nothing as to where he is? Roland asked.

Nothing. It’s a most mysterious, puzzling affair. And why meet at the Lion Rock? Why not come here? Or why can’t we go direct to him, wherever he is? And finally, where on earth–or where in Africa–is the Lion Rock? Dan, tell Madali and his boys that I want to speak to them.

Madali, one of the headmen, a native chief, and his boys were called and questioned, but they could give no information.

It’s such a remarkable message, pondered the professor, after he had dismissed them in despair, that if we had been anywhere else than in this wilderness I should have declared it to be a hoax.

But–I suppose you know whether it’s the doctor’s writing, Mr. Kelmar? said Roland. Do you think it is really his?

Yes, my lad, I do, though it’s a bit shaky.

He became silent and thoughtful as he recalled some of the wild rumours which had come down to the coast. And with them there came into his mind a haunting doubt. What if his friend were not in his right mind? It would not be the first time that the African sun had turned a white man’s brain.

Well, he decided at last, there is nothing for it but to follow his directions, for I suppose these letters S. by E., ½ S., mean that we are to travel in that direction in order to find the place. So to-morrow we will break up our camp and start upon a fresh search–a search for this Lion Rock!

II. MORE MYSTERY

AT dawn next morning a search was made round the outside of the camp; but nothing was discovered which explained how the mysterious message of the previous night had been delivered.

There were no tracks visible save those made by the lions, who had by that time drawn off. No traces were there of any stranger having been near the place; no signs of any struggle, such as might have been expected if a messenger had fallen a victim to the hungry marauders.

The professor gave up the problem in despair. Then he inspanned and set out upon his march, following as well as he could the directions contained in the message.

Towards afternoon the travellers reached a native village, where inquiries were made, but with unsatisfactory results. The villagers were friendly, and at first readily answered all questions put to them by the professor’s headman, Madali, who understood their language. But no sooner was the Lion Rock mentioned than they became silent and stolid. It waa clear that they knew something about the rock–something, however, which they declined to talk about.

Overtures were made to induce of them to act as guides to the place; but this they obstinately refused to do at any price. Neither coaxing, persuasion, nor bribes would tempt a single villager to accompany the white men and show them the way to the mysterious Lion Rock.

In the end the travellers had to resume their journey without a guide; and they started again, following as well as they could the line of country that had been marked out.

The region they had now to traverse was a vast undulating plain. It consisted for the most part of alternations of dense forest and grassy veldt; but in many places there were muddy streams and swamps, and in others ridges and stretches of almost bare rock.

In the far distance could be seen the blue summits of a chain of lofty mountains which appeared to rise almost to the clouds.

To these the travellers often longingly turned their gaze as they plodded onwards, in the burning rays of the tropical sun, through the steaming swamps or over the sun-baked rock. Their soaring summits suggested delicious, cooling, mountain breezes; whereas the plain they were in was little better than a scorching wilderness.

The natural obstacles which they continually met with, too, forced them to make many tedious detours. Their actual progress, therefore, was slow; and it was difficult to know whether they were really following the right course.

There was not even the excitement of a hunt for game to vary the monotony; for nothing in that way was seen during the whole day.

At sundown they halted for the night upon a rocky eminence; and here another strange thing befell.

They had cut their thorn fence and placed it in position, built and lighted their ring of fires, and were making preparations for the evening meal. The night was again extremely dark, no stars even peeped down through the cloud overhead.

The lions–their usual nocturnal attendants–had not yet put in an appearance. A distant sound, however that was like a deep, long-drawn, hoarse moaning, rather than a roar, indicated that the creatures were astir and were already setting out upon their nightly prowl.

What is there for supper to-night, Dan? asked Roland of the hunter.

Precious little, sir; nuthin’ as you’ll care about, grunted Beach. We’ve only got the bully-beef an’ the dried deer’s meat. The luck wur against us t’ day. No game t’ be seen–and even them village chaps had little to sell ‘cept some goats’ milk.

Ay, I know; and I’m tired of that dried-up meat. Why, it’s three or four days now since we had any fresh meat.

Happen we’ll get some to-morrer, said Dan hopefully. We’d better turn out early an’ see what’s about. I wur goin’ this mornin’, only the perfessor kep’ us so long a-huntin’ round fur the chap as he thought ‘ad brought that letter. But I knew it ‘ud be no good–‘cause why? ‘Twur witchcraft.

Ronald smiled indulgently.

Still harping on that, Dan? he commented. Well, I’ll go out with you as early as you please in the morning, and we’ll see if we can’t get a bird or two by way of a change for breakfast, anyway.

And then it was that the second strange thing happened. There was again a swishing sound, as of something hurtling through the air; but this time it was followed by a dull, heavy thud. Looking round, the two saw a big, dark lump lying on the ground a short distance away.

There was a white patch on it which showed up conspicuously in the firelight.

Zooks! Another letter? exclaimed Roland, staring about to see where it could have come from.

Somethin’ bigger’n a letter to-night, Dan declared. Must a come by parcel post this time, I’m thinkin’!

The hunter stepped forward and picked the thing up. It was a large joint of fresh meat.

Ginger! Here’s the supper ye was a-wishin’ fur! As fine a haunch o’ venison as ever I seed. Well, if this don’t beat everything! More witchcraft!

Roland wonderingly looked at this welcome arrival, touched it, smelt it, and found that it was, truly enough, what Dan had pronounced it to be. Then he cut free the piece of paper attached to it. On it were written a few words only:

For Professor Kelmar. With Dr. Cambray’s compliments.

The young fellow stared at the paper in amazement.

Jupiter! I must tell Mr. Kelmar of this! he cried; and ran off to where his leader was inspecting some of the arrangements for the night.

A minute or so later the professor was staring first at the slip of paper and then at the unexpected gift.

It is extraordinary–certainly most extraordinary! he commented. Now, Roland–Dan–how did this come here?

But, of course, neither could explain. The three gazed this way and that, but no solution of the problem offered itself.

This couldn’t have been thrown in by someone from the outside, at any rate! Roland remarked.

N-no. That, at least, seems certain, his leader admitted. But then, it couldn’t have come from the sky, you know.

As to Dan, he stuck to his original opinion:

It be witchcraft, he pronounced once more.

Well, the fresh meat is acceptable, sir, anyway, said Roland. Only just now I was wishing we had some.

Kelmar laughed.

There’s that to be said, certainly. Dan, you’d better take it in hand and cook it for supper.

Dan set to work and prepared what proved to be a tasty dish, and the travellers had quite an enjoyable meal; all the more pleasing, perhaps, for being seasoned with so much wondering speculation.

Nothing further of note occurred that night, and at dawn the march was resumed. In the course of the day they passed two more villages, with much the same experience as that which they had met with the previous day. Directly the Lion Rock was mentioned the natives became silent and refused to talk about it. Here, indeed, even more than before, there was noticeable in their demeanour an air of mystery which seemed to be founded on fear. To the keen observer it was obvious that they knew the place and held it in awe–in such awe that they were afraid to so much as speak about it.

Anyone would think there’s something uncanny about the place, commented the professor. I wonder what it all means? They have the air of people under the influence of some superstitious terror.

An’ small wonder, sir, quoth honest Dan. Seein’ as they seems t’ live in a country wheer things most onexpected do come droppin’ down from the sky. If that sort o’ thing’s bin a-goin’ on heer for long, I wonder it ain’t turned their hair white–an’ their skins, too, fur that matter. I tell ye, Mr. Roland, theer must be witches a-flyin’ about ‘ere nights.

Of the real, old-fashioned kind, d’you think, Dan–on broomsticks? laughed Roland.

At their next camping-place that night there came yet another missive–only a slip this time, tied to a stone, with the laconic message:

Too far to the E. Travel to-morrow S.W. by W.

No witch would watch over us like this, Dan, said Roland to the wondering hunter. These people, whoever they are, are acting more like guardian angels than witches.

III. AT THE LION ROCK

THE following morning the travellers were astir before dawn. This was the beginning of the third day–the day on which all doubts were to be resolved, and the promised meeting was to take place with their mysterious–or eccentric–correspondent.

In accordance with the latest instructions, so oddly given the night before, the route followed was more to the west. This alteration presently brought them in sight of a gap or pass in a high rocky ridge which crossed their line of march, and obscured their view of the country on the other side.

H’m! observed the leader to Roland. The directions which were ‘thrown’ at us last night were not sent without cause. But for them we should not have seen yonder pass, and should have been compelled to make a most toilsome journey right over the top of that ridge. I can see that this will be a much easier route.

Which, returned Roland, as he wiped his perspiring face with his handkerchief, is something to be thankful for on a baking morning like this.

The pass was a narrow defile between precipitous rocks. At first the track mounted upwards, but very soon it began to descend. Presently it opened out, offering to the tired travellers a magnificent view of the plain beyond.

And then, at last, they saw the Lion Rock.

There was no mistaking it when it came in sight. They needed no guide-book or finger-post to confirm their first impression. There was no room for doubt or hesitation. They knew that they must be looking at the Lion Rock, and no other.

There it stood, the most striking object in the midst of a vast plain extending to the foot of the mountains, of which, during the previous days, they had only seen the peaks. Dreamy, inviting-looking peaks they had been, suggesting, as has already been said, cool, soft, refreshing zephyrs. Now, glistening, silver threads could be distinguished here and there, which further suggested the existence of limpid mountain-streams and foaming waterfalls.

But the great rock for which they were bound claimed their first attention.

It stood out clearly, placed on an eminence, which raised it high above the surrounding country, while it was of itself far larger than any other rocky outcrop save the distant mountains.

It formed, therefore, a conspicuous and striking landmark.

Its likeness to a colossal statue of a lion couchant was obvious at the very first view of its general outline. This resemblance was heightened by the fact that the highest part, forming what may be termed the head and neck, was covered with dark foliage, which, when viewed by the naked eye from a distance, was not unlike a dense, shaggy, black mane.

Looked at through the travellers’ glasses, however, this mane resolved itself into a plantation of cedars of Lebanon of immense size, their sombre foliage showing up in striking contrast to the marble-like whiteness of the sides of the rock itself.

Bold, rugged, and massive stood this Lion Rock, suggesting in its outlines a sense of stubborn solidity and unfathomable strength.

Nor was this without reason. As Professor Kelmar decided, after a careful scrutiny, it must have stood thus for hundreds–more probably for thousands–of years, defying all the powers of Nature that had been brought to bear against it–the lightnings of the tropical thunderstorms, the beatings of the wild whirlwinds, the shock of the tornadoes.

It must have endured, too, the daily scorching of the sun’s rays, and the even fiercer breath of the forest fires which had doubtless from time to time raged round its base. But evidently, the professor decided, these could never have reached its tree-covered heights–at any rate, during the last thousand years. The immense size of the cedars themselves told him that much.

From a contemplation of this rock, the hot, dusty, toil-worn adventurers turned their gaze again to the distant rampart of mountains. And then a feeling of disappointment and dismay swept over them. High up in the air, literally amongst the clouds, was a seductive-looking tableland; but it appeared to be unapproachable, absolutely inaccessible! The mountains rose from the plain in one stupendous unbroken precipice, the upper part of which no one might hope to reach except by the aid of balloons.

An involuntary sigh escaped from Roland.

See, Mr. Kelmar! he exclaimed, as he gazed fixedly through his glasses. It looks like a veritable fairyland up there! It is just as though there was a fairy town amongst the clouds. I fancy I can almost make out buildings and white tents!

I can see something of the kind, the professor agreed. But I expect, Roland, that is an illusion–perhaps some kind of mirage! However, it will not do to linger here. Our immediate business is to get to yonder great rock. I can see we have yet some miles of difficult travelling to get through before we reach it.

"And what shall we find–who shall we find–when we get there? Roland queried. Will Dr. Cambray be there? Is he there now? Will he see us before we get there, and come to meet us?"

These were questions no one could answer. All they could do, seemingly, would be to trudge on through the increasing heat–the sun was getting high overhead–with such patience and hopefulness as they could muster up.